


Men On A Ledge

by BriannaNicole



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Burials, Drug and Alcohol Use, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Half assed Sucide attempt, M/M, Pre-Slash, Suicide, Sunset watching, The beginning of love, graphic blood/suicide scene description, hopelessness, story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriannaNicole/pseuds/BriannaNicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story in which Daryl finds love in a hopeless place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men On A Ledge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!  
> I did all kinds of research to make sure this was as realistic as possible  
> Phildel Qi- Icarus was used for inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0pYYniLlKU&list=LLwXH4Wv_OkK2unqNyrBulLA&index=3
> 
> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine  
> I hope yall enjoy!

Today started out like any other. Wake up early to listen to birds sing sweet melodies from his bedroom window. Sit outside to watch the sun rise with a steaming hot cup of coffee, black of course. Today the sky held only a few clouds, all fluffy and white. The air was cool, signaling the beginning of fall. The leaves had already begun their yearly change, all kinds of different colors littered the front lawn. It was Daryl's favorite time of year, the perfect time to slip into the woods with this beloved crossbow to hunt for hours on end. He would lose himself in the plush green comfort of bushes and trees, the serenity of the wild even though at times it's such an untamed place. This was the hunter's true home, a place of peace. He couldn't wait to get out there today, just to be a part of something bigger than himself. 

First he figured he oughtta go see his dickhead brother, check on him to see what else he had fucked up since he saw him two days ago. Merle had always been the angrier brother, which is understandable considering the type of upbringing they had. All Daryl has to do is pull up his shirt and the marks scattered all across his back , upper arms and torso would tell the story without him having to open his mouth. His older brother has the same scars, the Dixon boys are kinda like cheetahs - different markings, same lineage. Merle is older by 13 years so he had longer with their father, which resulted in far more tragedies to tell under his clothes. Some nights their mother would even take the belt to them, hoping to gain approval from their abuser as well but it was always in vain. She'd end up cowered in some corner of the room, her face a mess of bruises and welts. She'd end up impossibly more broken than the night before. Daryl personally never felt much hatred towards her, he understood that she just wanted her husband to love her again. Daryl knew that would never happen, for some reason their father was just fucking evil. He always would be. 

Over the years the elder Dixon took up drugs and alcohol, his favorite being whiskey and Oxycontin. He'd place the Oxy on a piece of ripped aluminum foil, set a lighter to it on the other side and chase his high all over the material. By the time he finished there would be crude black lines all across it. He'd lean in all different directions, all but falling from his seat. His eyes would glaze over unseeing, he'd utter nonsense until he finally came around. Once that was over the whiskey came next, downing whole bottles in 2 or 3 gulps then he'd be right back to jonesin' for Oxy again. That's all his Merle's life was, that's all he cared about when he wasn't locked up. Daryl has tried several times to get him help, to get him into rehab. The gruff man would never stay, he would sneak out and be gone by morning without anyone noticing. Daryl always found out and they'd argue, the hunter absolutely livid that he had flushed more money down the drain for his jack ass brother. Daryl has scars from some of those altercations, when their words got too heated and rough fists started flying. Once the younger brother's nose was broken, while he dabbed at it Merle apologized over and over.

_Ya know I love ya little brother. Ya know I do... I just can't stop. Just can't stop...just can't..._

And as much as Daryl wanted to lay his brother out for that one he stood up and put his hand on his struggling brother's shoulder, "Don' worry about it none big brother, we'll just have to figure somethin' out."

There were days where the hunter felt as though he couldn't take no more of Merle's shit, he tried over and over but his brother would never meet him half way. On his bitter days he'd wish Merle would either hurry the hell up and get well or just fucking die and leave him alone. Anything to stop this stupid cycle. Then he'd feel guilty and ashamed of himself for thinking such things, grab his crossbow and run off cleanse himself in the art of the hunt. He loves his brother, he does with all his heart, he just makes it hard as fuck sometimes. 

Daryl climbs the old steps to Merle's shack of a house, come to think of it it's not much different than what they grew up in. It's on the outskirts of town, you have to walk a while to get to and from anything. But its mostly quiet and that's why Merle chose it.

 _" Don' need no busy bodies nosyin' around muh shit."_ He grumbled the day Daryl helped him move in. 

There were cigarette butts thrown everywhere on his porch, dead flowers no one bothered to water or dispose of. Those were actually a gift from a girl he slept with weeks ago, such a dumb ass gift. He goes to knock on the door but it's already ajar and there's a powerful stench coming through the small crack. Immediately Daryl knows something is wrong, Merle's much too paranoid to leave his door open like this. Carefully he opens the door and almost vomits at the pungent smell that hits him full force, it's enough to make him gag and that's saying something with all the gutting and killing he's done all his life. The house is in it's usual disarray when the younger Dixon isn't around, dishes piled in the sink, empty whiskey bottles and used aluminum foil everywhere on the floor. There's splatters of unknowns on the cream colored walls , long ago yellowed from cigarette smoke but there's something else that makes Daryl's heart drop to the soles of his boots and knots his stomach. It's the smell of gunpowder and blood.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a long time before Daryl could regain the use of his voice, when it did what come out was nothing more than a squeak.

"Merle?"

Nothing. 

The younger man dared a few steps towards his brother's bedroom. It was suddenly too hot, too confined for Daryl's liking. Sweat broke out across his forehead and dripped down the back of his neck. He wanted to turn around and run, to come back when there wasn't this damn silence deafening his ears, this air of despair blanketing the entire house. He couldn't so he forced himself across the dark threshold of Merle's room, the smell now was unimaginable. He pushed himself further and flicked on the light, what he saw would haunt him forever. 

Merle was propped up against the headboard of his bed. He was slumped over to the side, a huge chunk missing from his temple. Blood and brain matter was splattered up the wall behind him, some had no doubt slid down behind the head of the his bed. It looked like someone had come in and thrown red paint everywhere on a canvas. It looked fresh like it was only done a few hours ago. His older brother's face was covered in blood, his eyes blood shot and open...staring at nothing. His clothes were drenched in blood and parts of his head, it literally looked like someone had set off a grenade on that side of his face. Everything was gone, like he was never human to begin with. His pale lips were pressed together like he was guarding secrets even in his death. In his lap lay a .38 revolver, his hand clutched tightly around the handle. His finger still rested on the trigger, dried blood clung to it as well. His other hand gripped the neck of a half empty bottle of whiskey like he shot himself rather than suffer through another sip of it. His skin was white as flour, the blood shocking in comparison. 

Daryl felt his heart stop, felt his very soul leave his body for he had stopped breathing long ago. A sob wrenched itself from his throat as his knees buckled, he dropped hard to the floor, vomiting several times. 

"Merle...brother...why?"

Rivers ran down his face as he stared at what his older brother had done. His chest rose and fell much too quickly to be called breathing, panic rose in him. He choked on each breath. Each painful breath.

"Merle...no...no...no...no...no..no.....why...why?!"

The hunter couldn't bring himself to his feet just yet, this can't be true. It's just a stupid trick his stupid fucking brain is torturing him with. This can't be right, this is the dumb part of some shitty horror movie where the victim is playing dead, that isn't his brother laying there sacrificed on that alter. That isn't his brother slumped over with a gigantic hole in his head, his brain leaking out his other ear, his brain all but sloshed across his bedroom wall. There ain't no weapon laying in his lap with his cold finger wrapped around it, huggin' it. It just ain't . But it is. It is. And it always will be. 

Daryl whimpered, he whined, he prayed to a God he hadn't believed in since the first time their daddy beat em. He bargained, he screamed, he cussed, he cried. This wasn't Merle, this wasn't his brother. 

_This isn't real...this isn't true....please....please...please._

The hunter collapsed to the side, bringing his knees up this chest. He rocked himself back and forth, staring endlessly at the bed his brother lay dead on. 

_This isn't happening._

However long later Daryl forced himself to focus, he finally spotted the note on the bedside table. The youngest Dixon slowly pushed himself to his feet and trudged over to pick up the crumbled note. Another sob broke free when he stepped in blood that had managed to reach the floor. He snatched the note up and read his brother's scrawl: 

_Little brother, it's better this way._  
_Was just holdin' ya back, ya deserved better n' me. Won't never gon' get no better so I quit._  
_Ol' Merle quit. I love ya Daryl, always have._  
_See ya top side kid._  
_Merle_

He fisted the note in his hand and looked down at Merle, he felt the urge to sob again and with everything in him he held it back. 

"Ok big brother...ok."  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Midday found Daryl hauling the last shovel of dirt onto his sibling. It took forever to drag the dead weight of his him through the house. He was again sickened by the sight of blood trailing under Merle as Daryl maneuvered him out the back door. He was now covered in blood as well but by that time he was cried out for the moment and numb all over. He smoothed the mound over and didn't bother with a cross, Merle never did believe in God. Not for a moment in his life, always said it was for sissy preachers that did nothing but touch on youngins anyway. So no cross, no prayer for him, just quiet cries slipping through he hunter's lips. Daryl had never hated his father more than he did right now, even when he was being ripped apart under his cold belt. Daryl hated him more with every passing moment, yes Merle pulled the trigger but it was their father who planted the seed all those years ago. 

He couldn't help but take a moment to wonder if this was actually why his brother chose to move out here, not quite in the woods but far enough away from anyone else. Maybe nosy neighbors wasn't he what wanted to avoid, maybe he didn't want anyone to hear the inevitable bullet he would place in his skull. He wanted to be all alone for this, the dumb bastard. Daryl was pissed at Merle for taking the pussy way out, was pissed that he didn't talk to him first. But Dixon's don't talk about feelings, they got angry. They break things. They destroy things. They die alone, just like they're meant to. That fucking note don't count, it didn't matter anyhow, he buried it and the gun along with him. The hunter wanted no part of anything he died with. Not once did he think of calling the police, they wouldn't understand. They'd pick over his body like it was some science experiment for entitled kids, they'd ask him about their daddy and family like it was their fucking business. Won't no one's business, least of all some filthy uniforms. The archer turned away and tilted his head to the sky. "Goodbye brother...I love you too."  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Its been a year now, the exact day Merle Dixon killed himself. Daryl spent it submerged in grief. He should've done more for his brother, really made sure he got the help he needed. He never should have yelled at him for struggling, Merle was just so frustrating sometimes. Made Daryl wanna rip his fuckin' hair out by the roots. He should've tried harder, should've been a better brother. What if he hadn't waited two days to go check on him? What if he had showed up just a few hours earlier? Maybe he could've punched some sense into him, could've made him see that a bullet won't no way to check out. All year long - coulda, woulda, shoulda. Nothing could fix it now. Most days it was all he could do just to peel himself out of bed for work. People asked about Merle for sure, he always lied. Said he was locked up and wasn't allowed to know where, he knew it didn't any sense but it won't their business. It'll never be anyone's business. 

It was cool again, leaves falling from trees all around him. Daryl hadn't been hunting that entire year, he still felt like he didn't deserve that comfort. The archer missed his home, he was lost in this world now. 

_I'm all alone_

Daryl crossed the bridge during his walk, it was the same bridge he had crossed on his way to Merle's. It was still partially daylight, most people in this area were probably already home living their perfect lives by this time. The hunter leaned heavily against the cool metal rail of the bridge, looking out at the scenery. Down below were train tracks and gravel, without giving it any thought Daryl climbed over the rail. He carefully placed both feet on the slim ledge that jutted out from the side. He pressed his back against the coolness of the metal for support, this time he looked to the sky. It would be at least another hour before the sun set and when it did... 

Daryl huffed at the thought of killing himself like his brother had, he still thought it was a pussy's way out but the pain he was constantly in had changed his mind and he hadn't even noticed. This torture was worse than any beaten he ever received from his family, most of all his father. It was like a hot knife jabbing relentlessly in and out of his chest without having the decency to kill him. All of a sudden Daryl just couldn't see living another day in this misery , whether it made him a coward or not. Nothing held any importance to him anymore, he had no desire to be here . He was gonna jump...he was gonna kill himself just like his brother. 

_Soon...soon, just wait till' the sun falls and I will follow behind it willing. Won't be much longer now. Soon. Just wait._

"Please don't do that." 

Closed eyes the archer hadn't realized he'd closed snapped open, that voice was the sweetest tune he had ever heard in his life. That southern drawl, the way those words tumbled easily off his tongue like water over stone. Hmm...angel like. Belatedly he realized that wonderful voice didn't come from inside his head or somewhere out of the sky, it had come from behind him. He slowly looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on. Light blue eyes shone back at him, tinted a bit red from the fading light of the sun. His hair dark, curly and neck length blowing slightly in the wind. The man's lean body was covered pleasantly in his jacket, scarf and tight black jeans. Damn, they painted on or somethin'? Jesus Christ this person was a sight to behold, standing there looking like a God come to take him home. It's a shame really, maybe in a different life, a more perfect world the hunter would pursue him. But this world was much too dark, too filled with hurt to even consider things like that at this point. He wouldn't be around much longer anyway. 

Realizing he hadn't spoken he snapped at the man, he was angry at himself for not hearing him approach. Some hunter. 

"Whattaya want?" 

"For you not to do what you're thinkin' a doin", he didn't hesitate to say. 

The bowman turned away focusing firmly on the train tracks below him, "Ain't yer business man, keep walkin' " He willed the angel away. 

_Leave me be. Let me die_

Without warning the curly haired man is climbing over the rail like it's the most normal he's ever done, Daryl whipped his head to glare wide eyed at him. 

"The fuck you doin'?!" 

He shrugged, " Just showin' you ya ain't alone is all." 

_Yes I am. Leave._

"Don't need no pity from no stranger. 

"I'm not offering pity, just wanna know what pushed ya to this. Those train tracks down there don't look too comfy." 

Daryl moved away from him an inch or so, he mumbled " Ya don't know nothin, ain't yer business." 

Minutes pass before the other man spoke again, when he did all of his ease was gone, storm clouds collected in his eyes. There were ugly memories hiding in that steel gaze. 

"My wife of 10 years and I had a child, he name was Carl. He was such a bright light, so loving and kind. He was smart like his momma, had her strong will. He was always so interested in the world around him, always asking questions. It used to drive me crazy, now I miss it. His laughter was contagious, nothing ever kept him down for long...until he was shot." 

"Man why ya tellin me this?" 

Daryl's interruption was ignored. 

"A crazy man showed up at his school one day shooting random kids and teachers, when Carl tried to protect a friend he was shot as well. In the eye. Lori and I drifted apart after that. I dove into my job as a cop, she did whatever she felt like which turned out to be adultery. She fucked my "best friend" Shane and some well -to- do business man. Philip Blake is his name, a big time CEO of Woodbury Industries. Assholes, both of em. Well, Shane caught feelings but didn't have the funds to keep her happy so now she's pregnant with Philip's kid. She moved out the week she announced our divorce, I've been alone ever since. She left a year ago today, thought a walk would help clear my head. I'm glad I did, wouldn't have ran across ya." 

For long minutes Daryl didn't offer an answer, his mind processed what he had just heard. Daryl could always tell when someone lied to him and this dark haired man wasn't, not with the way his words carried so much weight, a darkness so much like his own. Daryl looked to the sky once more instead of looking at the exquisite man beside him, the story he'd just heard was truly heartbreaking. The bowman knew from experience you couldn't just come out your ass with shit like that. He still didn't quite understand why it was any of his business, yet he could hear the blood still dripping from the man's heart. The sound matched his own exactly. 

_Fuck._

Southern twang brought Daryl from his thoughts. 

"So I'll ask ya again, why ya out here? Why ya doin' this?" 

The way he asked wasn't patronizing, it wasn't harsh. Didn't seem like he was annoyed by the archer's silence so far, just honestly wanted to know how he ended up a step from ending his life. His words held a comfort Daryl had only found amongst nature, he made Daryl want to offer up his very soul - or at least what was left. The man had been patient with him all this time like he really had nothing else to do, he hadn't yet decided Daryl was a lost cause. He hadn't given up. The look in his eyes didn't hold judgement, they didn't expect something he couldn't give. He just wanted to help...wanted Daryl to stay. Could he really tell this stranger his secret, this sad tale he had kept hidden from everyone else? His head said cuss the fucker out till' he left, but his heart had decided something else entirely. His heart had decided that yes...yes it was this stranger's business. Everything was his business. 

_Everything._

"Mah brother. He..he killed himself. Blew his brains out a year ago today." 

There was a sharp hitch in the other man's breath. "Did ya call 911? What did you do? " 

Daryl shook his head, "Nah. Buried him in his backyard, won't nobody's business. Least of all a pig." 

The stranger twitched, "Ouch." The bowman raised a dark eyebrow and shrugged, shit it's the truth. 

"God man, I am so sorry. You shouldn't have gone through that alone." Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. M' sorry for what happened to ya too" 

_Okay. Shut up now. That's enough story tellin'_

"Ya know, I was mad at muh brother for checkin' out the way he did and look at me. M' doin' tha same thing. Fuckin' pathetic." Daryl sighed and hung his head, he was done talking about it. He tensed at the touch on his shoulder, his whole body rigid. It didn't take but a second for his body to loosen, becoming a little like butter under the man's hand. 

"It wasn't your fault you did all you could for him, this wasn't on you." He spoke with a conviction Daryl had never experienced in his life, determined that his words were understood and believed. Daryl did, he believed him. Ain't that somethin'. 

A comfortable silence fell between the men. Daryl was baffled at how good it felt even if they were still standing on the ledge of a bridge above rocks and death. The archer decided then that he quite enjoyed the man's presence beside him, even if he was still basically a stranger. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

By this time the sun had begun to set. Daryl was supossed to be counting down the minutes on his life, his life was supossed to be flashing before his eyes. Not his future. But here he was on the precipice of the world with this man, this handsome man. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry for he was the closest to content he had ever been. 

The alluring man chuckled, "Wanna know somethin' funny? Here we are swappin' stories on the ledge of a bridge and we don't even know each other's names." Holding out his hand he grinned, "Rick Grimes." 

Daryl quirked his upper lip and returned the gesture, " Daryl. Daryl Dixon." 

Rick looked like he had uncovered part of the Da Vinci Code single handed, "Well Daryl Dixon, I dunno if this is the appropriate time to be askin' this but how about a good cold beer one day soon?" 

Daryl rewarded him with a half smile, "What makes ya think I wanna date a cop, Officer _Friendly_?he sneered. 

"Oh I dunno, I did come all the way out here to be with ya. It's only fair. Don't ya think?" 

Daryl only answered with a brief sound from his throat, Rick tried a different approach. "Look, for the past year I've been floating through my life lost and alone. I lost everything and when I saw you I immediately felt like I had something more than worth living and fighting for. You are the most stunning man I'll ever come across in my life or any other and I don't wanna go another day without being with you. If I can't stop ya from jumpin' then damn it I'm jumpin too, fuck if I'm losing you. Fate brought us here on the exact day everything went wrong, I'm not giving this up." 

Daryl's mouth dropped open, "Oh...okay." 

"So is that a yes Daryl...?" _My name sounds so motherfuckin' pretty slidin' off his tounge like that_

"Yeah" Daryl had never agreed to anything so fast in his life, Rick heaved a sigh of relief like he had been afraid of rejection. 

"Well good, how 'bout we watch this sunset, hm?" 

The hunter's face broke into a full smile, the first one in years. "I'd like that." 

Without warning Rick reached down and gently intertwined their fingers, Daryl wasn't too surprised at how natural this felt. How good the pad of Rick's thumb felt rubbing soothingly over his rough knuckles. Warmth spread across all of the chill in him, filling him with a happiness he never thought he deserved. Not with all the shit his father had put him through, the failure he felt he bestowed on his dear brother, or the self hatred he beat himself with without mercy. He had never thought today would end up this way, he had lost and buried his brother then turned around and met someone with an unrivaled kindness. He would forever be in mourning but in losing someone he found his destiny, he was holding hands with it. This could very well be love and he couldn't wait to witness this sweet story unfold into something amazing. In an attempt to end his life he found that it was only just the beginning, and on the ledge of a goddamn bridge too. Life really was funny sometimes. Daryl chuckled. 

_I'm not alone_

**Author's Note:**

> You know what to do, let me hear ya!


End file.
